PS 3515 




.E84 S7 




1910 


i '.•.'. 


Copy 1 






SONGS OF 




THE MISSISSIPPI 







JACOB IRVING HESS 



SONGS OF 

THE MISSISSIPPI 

By 
Jacob Irving Hess 






COPYRIGHT 1910 

By 

JACOB IRVING HESS 

All rights reserved 



<£CtA278394 



INDEX. 

The Chillicothe Pair 5 

The Old Family Circle. 7 

Stepping Toward the Grave 9 

Destiny 11 

Beautiful Sunset Land... 12 

Good Bye, Little Girl, Good Bye 13 

Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust 14 

Abraham Lincoln 15 

Be Somebody 16 

True Wealth 17 

Autumn , 18 

Theodore Roosevelt..... 20 

The Devil's "Want Column" 21 

Childhood's Happy Hours 22 

The Dear Old Country School 23 

The Teacher 24 

The Old Silent Mill 26 

The Cross-Roads 28 

The Vanished Hand 29 

Greatness ; 30 

Columbia the Conqueror ; . 31 

Affection 32 

Immortality 33 

Lost 35 

"Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men" 36 

Drifting 38 

The Separation 40 

Dolly's Play House 41 

The Reconciliation 43 

"If you Can't Speak Well of People. Don't 

Say Anything at All 44 

The Pilgrim Fathers 46 

The Resurrection 48 



The Chillicothe Fair. 

The folks all seem excited, 

As they march around the square, 
Listening to the bands play Dixie, 

At the Chillicothe Fair. 

You can see the grand old Farmer, 
With a smile upon his face, 

As he takes his dear old woman 
All around the Market Place. 

And you bet yer bottom dollar 

Just as sure as you wuz born, 
He will take the highest prizes, 

With his pumpkins, hogs and corn. 
An' he'll smile and laugh and chuckle, 

An' he'll treat you on the square, 
If you'll take the time to greet him 

At the Chillicothe Fair. 

And the stars and stripes are hoisted, 

You can see flags where you please; 
They are smiling on the farmer, 

As they float upon the breeze. 
You can see the prancing horses, 

And the cattle here and there, 
As the brass bands play their music 

At the Chillicothe Fair. 

And his p/etty smiling daughters 

Show the rosy bloom of health, 
As with sparkling eyes they greet you, 

As you look upon their Wealth. 
And their lovely, spotless virtue, 

And their snowy teeth of pearl 
Merit all the World's high honor 

Oh, the pretty farmer's girl. 



You can see his golden harvest, 

As it spreads along the street. 
You can hear the hum of voices, 

And the sound of tramping feet. 
Just look on the racks of fodder 

Filled with all that they can hold, 
And the tread of countless thousands 

Gazing on the wreaths of gold. 

Look upon his sons, admire them 

In their manhood proud and grand, 
As they give their happy greeting; 

Grasp their brown and honored hand! 
They're not dressed perhaps in broad cloth 

But they t^ke a fearless stand, 
You can't judge a man by clothing, 

He might dress in rags- so old, 
But beneath his tattered garments 

Beats a perfect h^art of gold 

Oh my grand and proud Missouri, 

We will ever by thee stand; 
We will ever sing thy praises 

On the noisy old brass band; 
And the Stars and Stripes shall flutter, 

As thy sunlight proudly streams, 
And Columbia smiles and beckons, 

While the brave old eagle screams. 

Oh Missouri, Proud Missouri, 

How thy hills and valleys spread, 
As their yellow harvests glitter, 

While the sun shines over head. 
We will honor, love and praise thee; 

We will breathe thee in our prayer, 
As thy stars and stripes still glitter 

At the Chiilicothe Fair. 



The Old Family Circle. 

I can see my dear old mother 

Sitting at the cottage door. 
Oh, those happy days of childhood, 

If I could but live them o'er. 

I can hear her softly singing 

In the cold gray evening light, 

III sweet tones with tears of sadness: 

"Where's My Wandering Boy To-night." 

I can feel the evening breezes 

Cross tht meadows brown and sere, 

In that little family circle 

I can see one vacant chair. 

I can see my only brother 

Through the twilight sadly roam, 
And the sad thought often strikes me: 

Do they miss me back at home? 

My old Father softly slumbers 

In the twilight's shadows gray, 

But I hope in joy to meet him 

On that glorious* Judgement Day. 

I can see them gazing Eastward 

In the twilights's silvery gloam, 

And I wonder if they miss me 

From the circle back at home. 

Oh, that little broken circle 

I would love to see tonight, 
With their glad and joyous welcome 

They would fill me with delight. 



I am humble and unworthy, 

As through life I sadly roam, 

But I loved to be remembered 

By the folks all back at home. 

I can see their smiles of gladness, 

As success I proudly claim 
In that little family circle; 

I can hear them speak my name. 

I am torn from their bosom, 

Through this cold world I must roam, 
But mv heart is sadly longing 

For I love them back at home. 

But the years are swiftly passing 

In their silence calm and sweet, 

And that little broken circle 

Once again will get to meet. 

When the Pearly Gates are opened, 
And I cross Death's silent foam 

I will meet my dear old Mother, 
And the folks all back at home. 



Stepping Toward the Grave. 

'Twas only yesterday I stood 

In Joy beside my Mother's knee. 

In childhood's hour just yesterday 

I cried and laughed in brightest glee. 

Look! How the years are passing by 

The .Winter's snow, the rose's bloom, 

A few more tears, and then this clay 
Shall molder in the silent tomb. 

A few more steps, this weary load 

In silence I will cast aside. 
A few more sorrows and my bark 

Will float upon Death's silvery tide. 

Life hath its cloudy, dismal day. 

A ray of sunshine lights the end. 
Just one more step and I will leave 

M} 7 nearest and my dearest friend. 

The moments fly, the ages roll, 

I see my angel mother stand 
Beckoning to me down the gulf of years 

To cross Death's sea to that better land. 

Just yesterday I stood a youth, 

And drank amid life's sweetest joy, 

And threw the precious hours away, 
A reckless and a thoughtless boy. 

If I could just call back the years, 

And use the hours that hurried past, 

I would not shudder when I leap 
Into Eternity silent and vast. 



Look! How the seasons come and go; 

I feel Death's cold and chilling wave. 
Just yesterday a speechless child, 

Now one foot tottering in the grave. 

Each heart beat drags me slowly down; 

I'm sailing toward that distant clime. 
Each hour, each second, speeds me on, 

I'm drifting down the stream of time. 

1 've let the years all slip away, 

And I'm useless now— just a guilty slave. 
I've not done anything, .but I'm weary for sleep; 

Just one more step to the silent grave. 



10 



Destiny, 



Where are we going? 

Where shall we end? 
Give me thy hand 

E're I leave thee my friend! 
Life hath its mystery, 

And Death its woe; 
The gold chord is broken, 

And then we must go. 

Eternity vast hath its fathomless deep, 

These clay lips shall close 
In Death's long, peaceful sleep. 

An Eternity endless on either hand 
When Life's frail thread is severed; 

Oh where shall we stand? 

No idling — No straying, 

No laughter — No play; 
Oh, where are you standing, 

My Brother, today? 
Where are we going? 

Where shall we end? 
Give me thy hand! 

E're I leave thee, my friend. 



11 



Beautiful Sunset Land. 

Torn from a bleeding heart away 

The pride of my youthful bloom 
Sweetly sleeps mid the roses of May, 

In the shade of the cold gray tomb. 
Those lovely eyes are forever closed. 

That smile I shall see no more. 
A cloud of sorrow enwraps my soul; 

Those happy days are o'er . 
A tender voice I used to hear 

Now whispers no more of love, 
But in sweetest dreams she is calling to me 

From the mansions of Peace above. 

Oft in the golden even tide 

Hand in hand we wandered away, 
And whispered tender words of love 

Mid the roses and violets so gay, 
And though above her little mound 

The Winter winds blow chill, 
And her rosy cheeks are pale in death 

A fond heart mourns her still. 
And her deep blue eyes are forever closed, 

That have smiled on me so grand, 
As we gazed on the clouds of blue and gold 

In that Beautiful Sunset Land. 

Oh, those golden hours 

Have fled on wings, 
And closed are those lips of clay, 

But I hope to meet my love again 
In that home of eternal day. 

I long to stand by her side once more 

12 



And smile on her soft blue eyes, 

And press her to my heart again 

Beyond the star-lit skies. 

I long to smile on her golden locks, 

And press her snowy hand. 

And plant a kiss on her rosy lips 

In that Beautiful Sunset Land. 



4 



Good Bye, Little Girl, Good Bye. 

Good bye, little girl, good bye. 

You're going to leave, they say. 
You're leaving the cold dumb shores of time 

To bloom in that better day. 

Your mamma will miss you my little dear, 
And your laughing deep blue eyes 

Will for ever close in the shadow land, 
To smile in the crystal skies. 

Your golden locks will belaid away 

With many a parting tear, 
And your laughing voice and your smiling face 

Will be missed for many a year. 

The angels are going to take you away 

Beyond the star-lit sky; 
Your mamma will never see you again. 

Good Bye, Little Girl, Good Bye. 

13 



Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust. 

Silently, laid in his youthful bloom, 

'Neath the falling shades 
Of the cold, gray tomb, 

Where the autumn shadows fall silently 
round 
There lav him so softly and tenderly down. 

There shall he lie in the mould and the rust, 

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust; 
And there in the twilight cold and gray, 

His form shall rest till the Perfect Day. 

His sorrows are over, his life work is done, 
No rust shall corrode with the rising sun; 

No moth shall devour, and no thieves shall 
break in , 

For his spirit has fled from the shadows of sin. 

His form rests in peace 'neath the dew and 

the sod. 
And his soul marches on with the legions of God ; 

In the sunshine of youth all his sorrows 
are o'er, 
And he sings with the saints on that evergreen 
shore. 



14 



Abraham Lincoln. 

Yes, Lincoln arose from the humble, 
To pilot the old "Ship of State," 

And he fell as a grand, fearless Martyr 

'Neath the grim silent message of Fate. 

He saw this broad land washed in blood stain, 
And the star spangled banner go down, 

And beneath the foul footsteps of Treason 
It was tro^. 'neath an enemy's frown. 

But he stood by the down-trodden black race, 
By the flag of his country and God, 

And his fame shall march down through the ages, 
Though he sleeps 'neath the dew and the 
sod. 

Rest on in thy slumbers! Oh Lincoln, 
Till the glorious break of the dawn, 

As the ages roll on in their splendor 

Till their endless procession is gone. 

And thy deeds, thou immortal Lincoln, 
Shall live on till the Perfect Day 

When these pillars of cold gray marble 
Shall have crumbled to ashes awav. 



15 



Be Somebody. 

You've bummed 'round here 

'Bout long enough, 
Just show them you're made 

Of the right kind of stuff, 
And "Be Some Body." 

Don't lay 'round, drink whiskey, 

And gamble and cuss, 
And every five minutes get into a fuss! 

Don't loaf on goods boxes, play cards and 
dance! 
Success will soon come if you give it a chance. 

Don't fool around and waste time, 
And gamble and play with the dungeons of Hell 

Till they've led you astray, 
But 4< Be Some Body.' 2 

The road is as easy, the pathway as light 

Just to turn against the Wrong, 
With your face toward the Right. 

Start right now; do not tarry, and falter and 
stop, 
Push onward and upward, there's room at the 

top. 
Please "Be Some Body." 

What's the use to be ouery, 

And shunned by the rest 
When you might just as well 

Be considered the best. 
What's the use to be a drunkard 

A haggard, a drone? 
When you might just as well be a King on a 

throne. 

16 



What's the use to get nervous 

Faint hearted and pale, 
And think all the time 

The t you're going to fail? 
Push right up to the front, 

Strike hard when you hit! 
Just show to the world, 

You've got the grit! 
For God's sake Brace up! 

And "Be Some Body." 



* 



True Wealth. 

I would rather live in a cottage-small 

W-here the warbling birds of Springtide 
call 
With a happy wife to love me dear, 

And fill my heart with heavenly cheer, 
And sweet contented children gay 

To welcome me home at the close of day, 
Than to live in a palace of marble and gold, 

With the scorns of a Pride, 
That is heartless and cold, 

With the grandeur of wealth, 
And the blindness of Power, 

That can last at its most, 
But a feverish hour. 

I would rather look to that mansion above 
To that home of pea ^e and joy and love, 

And that Wealth that fadeth not away 

Which I shall claim on that Perfect Day. 

17 



Autumn. 

King Autumn comes from his Northern fold 

With his icy crown and his robes of gold. 
Form the Northern pine to the Southern palm 

The summer smiles serene and calm. 
The wind still kisses the faded rose, 

And the yellow leaves rest in their Win. 
ter's repose. 
The crow is still calling, the gray hawk still 

screams 
And the summer reposes 'mid silvery dreams. 

The cold frosts are falling, the streams are all 

dumb 
And the bare trees are waiting for winter to 

come. 
The black birds are gathering^ the robin is gone, 
And the bleak winds are wailing from 
night fall till dawn. 
The large reddened apple still hangs on the 

tree, 
And the sweet golden peaches are ripening in 

glee. 
The rich purple clusters of grapes on the vine 
Will turn into red sparkling glasses of 
wine. 

The golden ear'd corn stands in shocks far away , 
And the meadows are clad in their russet 
and gray. • 

18 



The ripe yeHow pumpkins now smile in the sun 
And the snow birds dart by in their frolic 
and fun. 
The woodlands are silent, the river is still, 

And the goldenrod blossoms on top of 
the hill. 
The quail softly whittles, the rabbits still play 
And the leaves slowlv drift through the 
cold autumn day. 

The owl sadly hoots from the shade of the glen 

And the coon sneaks away to the mouth 
of his den. 
The pheasant still flies and the possum now 

trails, 
And the chip munk still creeps on the old 

mossy rails. 
The red moon of autumn drops down in the 

West 
And old "'Mother Nature" has sunk to her rest. 
Old autumn sleeps on in his weary repose, 

And the Winter King comes with his 
mantle of snows. 



19 



Theodore Roosevelt. 

Let empires rise, and kingdoms fall, 

And great men pass away, 
Still may the glorious stars and stripes 

Adorn the break of day. 

Should Greece and Rome shake off their dust, 

And gain their giant sway 
They could not place a brighter star 

Oa twilights robes of gray 
Though England rears her Edwards great 

Or Gladstones by the score, 
How many Roosevelts can she place 

On Times immortal shores. 

Napoleon's men surprised the world 

His navies wrecked the sea, 
But Roosevelt's peaceful victories won 

The great land of the free. 

Let Caesar shed the rust of time 

And cast aside the grave 
To stare upon a greater Rome, 

Than Europe ever gave. 

Though Lincoln bound the nations wounds 

And greatness did display 
The dove of peace has hovered o'er 
The ruler of our day. 

May rulers rise to awe the world, 

Their navies sweep the sea; 
Long may such rulers hold in dower 

The great land of the free. 
Let Freedom's starry banner wave, 

Let fleets the cannons roar 
Until his gain has been the last 

Of fame's unending store. 

20 



The Devil's "Want Column". 

Wanted, a man that can blackguard and swear, 

Wanted, a man that can get on a tear, 
Wanted, a man that can puff cigarettes. 

A man that plays cards, lies and gambles 
and bets. 
Wanted, a man that beats his wife, 

That don't love his children or care for 
their life. 
Wanted, a man that has hurried through school 

That has bummed around the stores 
On a goods box or stool. 

Wanted^ a man, when the boss aint at work, 
That will lay around and sleep, 

Have a good time and shirk. 
One that talks 'bout his neighbors, 

And cheats when he can. 
One that don't go to Church — 

He's the kind of a man. 
Wanted, one that thinks more of style than real 

needs 
One that kills out the grass 

To give room for the weeds. 
One that steals, hates his God 

Robs poor widows and then — 
For Hell is ailed up to the top with such men. 



21 



Childhood's Happy Hours 

Take me back to childhood's hours, 
Back among the birds and flowers. 

Take my burdened soul. along, 

Let me hear the mock bird's song. 

Let me see the meadows wide 

With verdant forests on each side, 

That T might live those sweet hours o'er, 
And visit memory's golden shore. 

Throw aside my crown of care, 

Take me back to mother dear, 

That I might wander 'neath the trees 
And hear the songs of birds and bees. 

Take O, take me back once more, 

Back to childhood's golden shore. 

Let me hear the songs of birds, 
Let me see the lowing herds. 

Let me to the woodland go, 

Where the sweetest breezes blow. 

Take me back among the flowers, 

Take me back to childhood's hour. 



22 



The Dear Old Country School 

The final day confronts us, 

And we children all must part, 

I cannot bear the sorrow, 

That enwraps my broken heart. 

Oh, well do I remember 

How I learned my A. B. C's 
While the little birds sang praises 

In all the leafy trees. 

Dear happy faces greet me, 

Sweet rosy cheeks, blue eyes 
Will close in death — I'll meet them 

Beyond the starry skies 

Those were sweet bygone days, 

When we romped in shadows cool. 
We must part in tears and sorrow 
In the dear old country school. 

Oh, the dear old country school, 

Oh, the dear old country school, 

Where the Teacher used to teach us, 
With the dreaded hickory rule. 

Oh, those days are all gone by, 

And we cannot live them o'er, 

We will all gaze sadly backward 

To fond Memory's golden shore. 

We must all learn Life's hard lesson, 
Time is listless cold and cruel. 

There are things to not be mastered 
In the dear old country school. 

We will never meet again 

'Neath the gray oak's shadows cool. 
With the birds and bees and sunshine 

In the dear old country school. 

23 



The Teacher. 

Dedicated to Prof. F. L. Maxwell, of the Chillicothe 
Normal College, on his fiftieth birthday, in whose 
classes I, as well as thousands of others have been 
led to see all that tends to the higher in life. 

I am only a humble Teacher, 

And no mansions of gold are mine, 

But I have a wealth that is greater, 

Than a home on the castled Rhine. 

My clothes they are tattered and ragged, 
And I often times get kind o' blue, 

But my tears are all kissed by that dear little 
wife 

Whose affection is ever true. 

When the World seems to frown on my labors 
And my soul is enwrapped with its chill 

Her soft little arm is around my neck, 

And she whispers: "I love you still." 

Oh, why should I care for the World's cold 

Wealth, 
Or the maddened rush for gold 

When man's dear affection, and Eternity 
vast 
In my grip I now guide and hold. 

With J. P. Morgan and old John D. 

On "Wall Street" I cannot stay, 
But man can not know all the good I have done 

Till the dawn of the Judgement Day. 

24 



Yes, I know that my cottage is humble and poor 

And Castles I cannot hold, 
But I have a sway that is greater far, 

Than is wielded by silver or gold. 

My frame will return to the silent dust, 
I will sleep in an unmarked grave; 

No books have [ wrote— no speeches made, 
No banners for me shall wave. 

No costly marble will tell the tale 
Of triumphs I have won or lost; 

No Poet will sing in his measured rhyme 
Of the sorrows and tears it has cost. 

But my smiles and my deeds they will ever live; 

The World will not know where I he, 
But my life through my pupils will ever go on; 

No teacher can ever die. 



25 



The Old Silent Mill. 

I often recall the happy day, 

When in childhood's hours 
I used to play with the bare foot lads 

At the old Mill Pond, 
But those happy days are now faded and gone. 

Happy were we with hook and line 

To cast in the water beneath the old pine, 
I and Walter and Oscar and Bill. 

I often think of those playmates still, 
Sweet Anna and Lena with calico dress, 

How her and Bill v would often caress. 
How I and Billy would often fall out, 

When we both would go 'round for a 
season and pout; 
How we would lean over the moss covered brink 

And scare off the tad poles to get a cold 
drink. 

I oft' in my fancy can see the old Mill, 

As it stood there so sombre and lonely and 
still. 

We were bare footed urchins 
With nothing to do, 

But build big toy fleets. 

And use chips for a crew. 

Our mock fleets would skirmish 

Again and again; 
And we mimicked George Dewey 

As he battled with Spain. 
But those bright happy days 

In the past sadly lie, 
And I often look back 

With a tear in, my eye. 

25 



How I wish we could meet, 

And live over the time 
That I now would retrace 

In this picture of rhyme. 
Just to grasp their dear hand 

And to bail that same line, 
To my care-worn heart would be pleasure 

divine. 

But those days are all gone, 

And my line is now cast 
In the harbor of dreams in the days of the past 

From my troublesome sleep 
I now often times start 

As I dream of the days 
Now engraved on my heart, 

And my soul often wanders 
Calm sweetly and still 

To the days when we played 
Round the old silent mill. 



27 



The Cross-Roads. 

In the bloom of youth as we look down the 
silent vista of years we behold two roadways 
leading in opposite directions. 

One is broad and beautiful and the other is 
uninviting, hard to follow. 

The broadway is lined on either side with 
beautiful flowers, and towering pines. 

The helpless wanderer is lured to this side 
and that bv the soft mellow strains of the 
sweetest music. 

Beautiful women smilingly take him by the 
hand and lead him blindly on. 

Almost before he is aware he is standing be- 
fore the bar. 

Poor helpless wretch. He takes his first 
glass. 

In his imagination, as he raises it to his lips 
he can see his old gray haired mother beckoning 
to him from the realms of Paradise, imploring 
him, with tears in her eyes, to keep his 
promise he had made her on her death-bed, 
to always be a good boy. 

How his conscience stings him. 

In his heart he avows to be a better man, 
but his will power is gone. . 

He takes another glass, and still another. 

He goes to the ball room, the gambling den, 
the murderer's grave and Hell. 

Alas— if he had only taken the other road. 

I will grant, that it is narrow. 

Here and there are hidden pitfalls. 

28 



Now and then a cloudy day, and a few 
trials and troubles, a hill now and then to climb. 

A tear now and then to shed, but they are 
only tests, that fit us for all Eternity. 

In the vigor of manhood, as you stand 
ready you must travel one of these two roads. 

One is broad, lined on either side with 
flowers and sunshine, and leads to Hell. 

The other is narrow, and filled with trials 
and tribulations and leads to eternal life. 

Which of these two roads will you travel? 



4 



The Vanished Hand. 

We love to look back beyond the silent grave. 

We think we hear the flutter of the wing; 
In this brief spell we are a fettered slave. 

We love to hear the snowy Angels sing. 
Careworn beside our earthy task we stand, 

And look in vain to see the silvery fold. 
In tears we long to grasp a vanished hand 

That beckons from the "Beautiful City of 
Gold." 
We love to think, that when this mortal coil 

Is cast beneath the tread of hurrying feet, 
And careworn when we leave our earthlv toil, 

That somewhere we can find those treasures 
sweet. 
We love to think, beyond the Pearly gates 

With smiles and kisses some dear friend 
awaits. 

29 



Greatness. 

What is greatness in this World 
Full of sorrow and of strife? 

That which heroes doth unfurl 
On the battle field of Life. 

It is not time's architects 

Rising in their power and fame 
Leaving Life's sea strewn with wrecks, 

That deserve immortal name. 

Tis the man with mind that's willing 
To protect us for the Right. 

To go forth in the wide world's battles, 
And be victor in the fight. 

Alexander was the victor 

O'er the conquered men of Tyre, 
But it did not make him greater 

When he slew with sword and fire. 

To be great we must know our weakness 
For we came but from the clod, 

And we're but the humble'st creatures 
Placed beneath the hand of God. 



30 



Columbia the Conqueror. 

When England rose in boundless wrath 
To harm her daughter o'er the sea 

She trampled in the narrow path, 
That made our land of Liberty. 

They came like Tyrants from a throue 
Obedience to their laws compel, 

But they by Right were o'er thrown, 
And like the Romans rose and fell, 

Yes, and their British blood was spilled 
They sank upon a conquered knee, 

Their greatest wishes were unfilled — 
To rule this great land of the free. 

The sons of men of Pilgrim fame 

Stood like the mighty hosts of old, 

Arose from their baptismal name, 

And won the glorious land we hold. 

They came not from the monarch's throne 
To make some weaker people yield 

They came not in their royal robes 
To win fame on the battle field. 

Our fathers left their homes of peace 
To stand for sacred Rights of God 

The monarch's iron sway to cease, 

And win the land on which we trod. 

We are the men to face the storm 

To watch the turning hands of Fate 

To stand through thrilling times of harm. 
And rightly steer the "Ship of State." 

31 



Long may Columbia's banner wave 
In peaceful folds high in the air 
To triumph o'er the conquered grave, 

And stand in might for Freedom fair. 

Long, long may live this glorious land; 

Long may Columbia's banner wave. 
Long may her peaceful glories stand 

For homes of freedom and of brave. 



\ 



Affection. 

I knelt before her smile in reverent thought 

And pressed on her sweet lips a loving kiss. 
I asked myself — What grander hath God 

wrought? 
These rosy cheeks the sweetest of Heaven's 

bliss. 
I squeezed her soft wLite hand in tender' st 

care, 
And pressed her to my heart in deepest love, 

And from my eyes fell many a joyful tear 
While the angels gazed in rapture from 

Heaven above. 
Her blue eyes smiled in precious love divine. 

In golden ringlets hung her yellow hair, 
And I softly whispered will you please "Be 

Mine?" 
Though I'll deserve your smile so pure and 

fair. 
And still I linger as the years roll by, 

For just one kiss, and a smile from her deep 
blue eye. 

32 



Immortality. 

There is something mighty 

Beyond Time's shining face, 
Where Muses wander, 

And the mystic chord 
Strikes not the heart of mortal being. 

Where the power of Worlds 
Sits on the great white throne, 

And beckons from the dim blue vaults 
To flying Time to leave no trace 

Upon the endless chain of passing ages. 

W T hen Spirits sound the bugle blast, 

And golden trains stop still, 
When heated circuits are amazed, 

And swinging globes fall 
From accustomed paths 

When massive works are opened. 
And the ringing accents 

Pierce the distant caves: 
When Creation's King stands unarrayed 

And mystic secrets lie unfold 
The mightiest of the mighty 

Commingle and converse condition's goal, 

The tiniest flower that decks the water's ec\ge 

Unfolds the self same tale 
Of valued volumes old 

Springs from the darkened mould 
Blooms, falls to clay again to spring 

In Future's sun and shower 
Continues thus through Natures passing train. 

33 



Night's silvery lamp 

Or daylight's massive beacon 
Arises in the start, 

And sees it to the end, 
But as we see adorns another spell, 

And nothing is destroyed, 
But changed in form. 

Oh, Master of Nations 

Builder and destroyer of Worlds 
Shape thee our destinies, 

As thou woulds't do. 
We are as it were 

A pinch of mortal dust 
Cast careless on the winds, 

To fail to sordid earth, 
And spring in Heaven's light, 

Or go sadly down to eternal fires, 
And everlasting Death, 

As we select beyond the Pearly gates 
Or join that endless throng, 

Where Satan rules supreme. 



34 



Lost. 

I heard a voice from out Eternity, 

Echoing down the silent vista of years, 
In accents dim, disconsolate and free. 

With p maddened glare I gazed through 
bitter tears. 
I saw a dim, weird spectre wrapped in white, 

Beckoning to me to cross the silent wave. 
I ft It the chilling frosts of Death's cold blig;ht, 

And 'round me fell the darkness of the 
grave . 
The black and angry billows 'round me lashed. 

I heard the tolling of the gurgling knell, 
My frail bark on the waves then madly dashed. 

I said then — Tell me, Spectre, is this Hell? 

I listened to the weeping of the lost, 

The hopeless wail and gnashing then of 
teeth. 
My poor soul then in glaring flame was tossed, 

Where I, throughout all time, must groan 
and wreathe 
He drew his bloody dagger from my heart 

He then rose slowly from the silent strife. 
His grinning skeleton echoed "Thou art Lost" 

Go on thou Wretc 1. This is Eternal Life. 



35 



"Peace on Earth, Goodwill 
to Men." 

Night's silvery veil hung low 

Oti the Jordan's golden flow, 

And the hills and valleys round 
Echoed with a holy sound, 

And bright angels seemed to fly 
From beyond the star-lit sky. 

All the prophecies foretold. 

From Creation grand and old 
How God's legends had unfurled, 

From the making of the World 
Of the coming of that gem 

On the plains of Bethlehem. 

Gold winged Seraphs led the way, 
In the twilight's silvery gray, 

And sweet Anthems softly rose 

On the morning's deep repose, 

And words sounded from the glen 

44 Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men." 

In the manger cradle lay, 

At the break of golden Day 
1 Neath the gaze of sages wise 

Led there 'neath the starlit skies. 
Led to where Sweet Mary lay 

In the morning cold and gray. 

Through the marble halls of time 

Through the reign of War and Crime 

Since he died upon the cross 

We have suffered from his loss. 

36 



Upward then he turned his eyes, 

Toward the clear and crystal skies, 
And his spirit grand and true 

Said* 'They know not what they do 
Cursed I am, but leave them free 

On these plains of Galilee." 
And .beneath that crown of thorns 

Mangled with the captors scorns 
Suffered, died, ascended then 

Christ, who died for good of men. 

Live thou on Oh precious Lamb! 

Ring thou bells of Bethlehem! 
Sing thy praises just as then, 

''Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men." 



37 



Drifting. 



We are drifting, drifting, drifting, 

Toward that cold and silent clime, 

We are drifting, drifting, drifting, 
Down the silent stream of time. 

Idle tears and bitter heartaches, 

Pale, cold faces haunt my dream, 

With the moaning of the billows, 
As I float along the stream. 

Man without a purpose falters, 

With a face down cast and pale, 

Like a ship without a rudder, 
He will sink before the gale. 

In the great eternal silence 
Soon the ages glide away, 

And the chilling frosts of autumn 
Kill the lovely flowers of May. 

In sad tears I often wonder 

Why some men will drift along, 

With their weary lives still trailing 
In the thorny path of Wrong 

Why will man imperial, God-like, 
Stoop to be a shackeled slave? 

Why will men who might be angels 
Fill at last a drunkard's grave? 

There are men who stand and beckon, 
And their ragged ranks still swell, 

As they stagger, poor sad outcasts, 
Down that awful path to Hell. 

38 



How their poor souls shriek in torture 
How their bleared eyes fill with tears! 

As their trembling, feeble, footsteps 
Sweep ihe silent gulf of years. 

Why should you, my dearest brother, 
Drop your oars then by your side! 

While your bark without a Pilot 
Drifts and floats along the tide. 

Who could not float with the current? 

Who could not drift with the crowd? 
Just to hear their noisy plaudits, 

As they ring so grand and loud. 

But to row against the current 

Takes a different kind of man. 

You must crush all oppposition. 

You must have a steadfast plan. 

Yes, the crowd will hiss and jeer you, 
They will scorn you in their pride, 

But no man ever reached the top 
By drifting with the tide. 

Have an" Ideal grand and lofty 
In the distance high and far, 

Strive and pray still toiling onward 
Ever upward toward your star. 



39 



The Separation. 

Oh, could I but recall that morn 

My heart was filled with sinful scorn 
When last I pressed her to my heart; 

Twas not to be we had to part. 
How dear she was? How sweet her smile, 

Her face, it haunts me all the while. 
She was my first, my only love; 

Tbe Seraphs smiled from heaven above, 
While I gazed into her calm gray eyes 

More beautiful than summer skies. 
I mourn that loss, and always will; 

I wonder if she loves me .'till 
I wonder if that raven hair, 

So young, so beautiful and fair 
Is streaked with gray? 

I weep, I mourn, I turn awav; 
I would not, could not bear to stay. 

That graceful form I still can see;' 
I wonder if she thinks of me. 

If I could hold her hand in mine 
And gaze into those eyes divine, 

And call her once again my own, 
This broken heart would cease to moan. 

Betrothed were we. The day was set; 
Long years have gone, I love her yet. 

When we think of each the tear drop starts 
From two once fond now broken hearts. 

Could I, tre life's short pace is gone, 
Recall love's sweet and rosy dawn, 

My heart would leap from sorrows chill; 
I love her now and always will. 

40 



Dolly's Play House. 

Oh, those glad wild days 

And those childish plays. 
How happy wa< Dolly then, 

With her calico dress, 
And ber mother's caress, 

As she played in the Woodland glen 

Oh, her silken curls! 

How sweet she did sing 
When so often she played 

Round the old grapevine swing. 
There was dirt on her face 

From the old pumpkin pies 
As I kissed her sweet lips, 

And her soft blue eyes 
We're calm as the cloudless summer skies. 

In my dreams I can see her 
As I wake in tears 

At the calm, sweet thots 
Of those happy years. 

Oh, the moss covered fence, 
It has rotted and gone 

And from the old well the last water is 
drawn. 
You can hear the old robin 

Still sing her sweet song 
Near the playhouse and toys 

At the breaking of dawn. 
You can see broken dishes 

Where the fence used to be; 
If you list' you can hear 

The droll hum of a bee 

41 



You can see her dear name 
Deeply carved on a tree, 

If you look you can tell 

Where the swing used to be. 

But Dolly's blue eyes 

Are now folded in sleep 
From which no one returns 

From its slumbers so deep. 
I oft times now roam 

In a lullaby dream 
To the evergreen bank 

Of the old silver stream. 
As I gaze in its depths 

I jump back in despair, 
As I see my deep wrinkles, 

And silvery white hair. 
I can hear the soft breezes 

As the years hurry on 
Still whisper and sigh 

Where has Dolly now gone? 



42 



The Reconciliation. 

If you would only love hie 

My darling little girl 
The angels beyond the starlit skies 

Would smile from their gates of pearl. 

The clouds would change into sunshine 

And the darkest hour into day. 
I can see thy blue e)es smiling 

As I look in the distance away. 

Now darling don't you love me still? 

Will you promise to ever be true? 
For I shall ever love you dear, 

No other one but you. 

And now that you left me weeping 

When you left mid the roses of May, 

How many tears have you shed for me 
Since you left on that summer day. 

How many heart aches have you had? 

My thots are all with thee. 
How many prayers my darling dear 

Have you breathed to heaven for me. 

Hark! Tis the sound of foot steps 

And the door is open wide 
And the girl is standing before me 

That once was my happy bride. 

In a loving embrace she enfolds me 

And she showers me with kisses and tears 
And we knelt at the grave of our little child 

That we lost in the by-gone years. 

43 



"If You Can't Speak Well Of 

People, Don't Say Anything 

At All. 

As you travel life's hard journey 

From the cradle to the grave, 
And you see men's petty weakness 

Side bv side with hereos brave 
Try to see the good in people 

You will find it if you look. 
Good is in the blackest villain 

That you ever under took. 

Scatter sunshine in your pathway. 

Lift your fallen brother up; 
Do not Vy to kick him downward, 

Sprinkle kindness from your cup. 
Don't speak slightly of your neighbor, 
* Let the seeds of sunshine fall, 
If you can't say some thing cheerful 

Dou't say anything at all. 

Scatter flowers alon^ your pathway. 

Let the sweet canaries sing, 
If you haven't tried it Do so! 

It will make of you a King. 
Life to you is what you make it. 

It is true some men will fall. 
If you can't speak of their virtue 

Don't say an} thing at all. 

44 



Don't be telling of their weakness. 

You are not the one to say. 
Try to cheer the poor old widow, 

Try to make life bright and gay. 
Judge not, you may be found wanting; 

Don't be low and mean and small. 
If you cannot justly praise them 

Don't say anything at all. 

Don't just look for faults; you'll find t hem 

Anywhere you chance to trod. 
Do not try the dangerous quicksand. 

Do not drift that far from God. 
Don't get way down there in Life's scale, 

In the mud and muck and mire 
If you look for faults or virtues 

You will find what you desire. 
Don't pick flaws while traveling downward 

Toward the shadows of the Pall; 
If you can't speak of men's praises 

Don't say anything at all. 

Lend a strong arm to the helpless, 

Try to make ycur life worth while- 
Cheer the poor sad hearted orphan 

With a kind word and a smile. 
Let the roses bloom in fragrance, 

Where your steps by chance may fall; 
If you can't speak good of people 

Don't say anything at all. 



45 



The Pilgrim Fathers. 

The white cheif trods the silent course, 
Where Warriors winged their way. 

A prouder man than Caesar walked 
In Rome's imperial day. 

The wailing pines on the ocean shore, 
Their Northern welcomes sing, 

As the solemn sound of song and prayer 
Thru pathless forests ring. 

No more the painted Warrior 

Leaves his tracks upon the sand ; 

No more the peaceful settler falls 
Beneath his bloody hand. 

The golden sun comes from the East 
To shade the Western glen, 

And throw his glorious shadows 
On a higher race of men. 

The pilgiim fathers braved the storm 

Across the billowed way 
And built their roaring camp fires 

Where a nation's cradle lay. 

Around the roaring camp they sang 
Of England's mountains gray; 

Of marble statues, castle walls, 
And Ruler's merciless sway. 

They left their childhood's happv home 

To worship thus afar; 
To pierce a burning desert wide, 

Beneath a Western Star. 

46 



They made an altar of the oak, 

A temple of the sky, 
To live and worship as they pleased 

Their mighy God on high. 

What have they done? The heathen cries, 
As comes the mighty throng 

When all the nation joins in chorus 
hi one grand solemn song. 

When o'er the city's constant din 
The flag of freedom looms, 

And from the tnountain's snowy height 
The rusty cannon booms. 

The prided yankee straightens up, 

And says in a quick reply: 
This is the most almighty power 

That stands beneath the sky. 

The Pilgrim Father's children rise, 
A nation 'neath their sway 

Has risen in the golden West 
To grace the Judgement Day. 

Those grand old men have fallen, 
Not upon the field of Wrath; 

In the march of flying legions 

They have crossed time's silent path. 

N® marble statues tell their deeds 

Of battles bravely won 
Upon New England's rocky plains 

Beneath a burning sin. 

May Empires fall to silent dust, 

And fondest hearts decay, 
To leave their deeds like vespers shine 

Upon the twilights gray. 



47 



The Resurrection. 

The silver bells of Paradise 

Shall toll in mournful rhyme, 

And the silent graves shall open 

On the cold dumb shores of time. 

The Nations of the earth shall stand 

In solemn vast array, 
The crystal skies shall quickly melt 

In fervent beat away. 

The Master of the earth shall part 
The Nations left and right, 

And all his legions then shall stand 
In Heaven's holy light. 

The spirits of the lost will sink 

In terror wild and dire; 
Their weeping wretched souls shall burn 

In awful lakes of fire. 

The tortures of an awful Hell 

Will blast immortal bloom, 
A living death will be the end 

Of Time's remorseless doom. 

The holy saints of Paradise 

Will sing in deathless song 

And sweetest peace will fall around 
That great and silent throng. 

The mortal sons of men shall speak 

From silent lips of clay, 
And sing around the throne of God 

Upon that Perfect Day. 

48 



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